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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096878">A Touch Unorthodox</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo'>Topicabo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Glove Kink, Kinda?, M/M, Rupert Graves Birthday Auction 2019, Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:55:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t known this was the kind of thing he went in for. But then, Mycroft has always had a knack for bringing out his hidden depths.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rupert Graves 56th Birthday Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Touch Unorthodox</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/gifts">egmon73</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was commissioned by egmon73 for the 2019 Rupert Graves Birthday Auction! Thank you for your endless patience while I shaped this one, and all your kind words. :)))</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Greg takes his time, slipping his hand into the glove finger by finger. The inner lining is like velvet, soft and cool against his skin. He makes a loose fist, enjoying the way the glossy leather creaks from the pressure. The look, the feel, the faint earthy scent – it’s all ridiculously posh. Far too extravagant for someone as scruffy as him.</p>
<p>He’s a bit in love with them already.</p>
<p>“You approve then?”</p>
<p>Greg nods, pulling on the glove’s mate. He turns his hands this way and that, flexing his fingers. The fit is flawless, as though they’ve been made especially for him. </p>
<p>That raises the question, actually-</p>
<p>“I should confess; those hand sketches I’ve been labouring over weren’t purely the fundamentals practice I led you to believe.”</p>
<p>Greg wants to grin, but keeps his expression perfectly neutral. It’s become quite easy to do as of late. </p>
<p>He’s learned from the best, after all. </p>
<p>“They’re gorgeous, Myc,” he says, finally lifting his eyes to where Mycroft watches from the bed. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>Mycroft smiles, a little flush rising in his cheeks. “They suit you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Greg crosses, not missing that quick intake of breath as he comes to stand over Mycroft, stopping just short of crowding between his bare legs – not that the idea doesn’t appeal. Greg’s equally naked himself save for his lovely new gloves, and the weight of Mycroft’s gaze almost makes him want to preen. </p>
<p>He hadn’t known this was the kind of thing he went in for. But then, Mycroft has always had a knack for bringing out his hidden depths.</p>
<p>Greg reaches out, drawing an appraising finger along Mycroft’s jawline. “Think you got your money’s worth?” </p>
<p>“Mm.” Mycroft leans into his touch with a hopeful shiver. “Quite - optimistic, so far.”</p>
<p>Greg does allow a small smile now. He wonders if Mycroft realises how gorgeous he is in these moments, how perfect. No doubt Greg loves the poise, the effortless dignity and the intelligence.</p>
<p>And he loves being the one to gently set that all aside, to see Mycroft safe in that headspace where he’s so tactile and human. No one else could be trusted with the privilege, and it never fails to stir a deeply protective part of his nature.</p>
<p>To that end, Greg takes hold of Mycroft’s chin and pulls their gazes together, just ungentle enough about it to startle out a gasp.</p>
<p>“Gonna lie back for me?” he asks, dropping his pitch into that smoky place he’s been cultivating ever since he learned how his gravelly morning voice puts a hitch in Mycroft’s pulse. “So I can break in my new pressie?”</p>
<p>Quiet shyness flickers with the dilation of Mycroft’s pupils. “Y-yes. I’d like that.”</p>
<p>There’s more, hesitating behind his blush. Greg leans in, coaxing him with a single, teasing stroke of their mouths. </p>
<p>“And…? Something else you’d like?”</p>
<p>“I – perhaps-“</p>
<p>“Hmm?” </p>
<p>Mycroft anxiously breathes out, struggling with it. </p>
<p>“Could you – on my lap, during? S-so we’re-“ </p>
<p>Greg cuts him off with a proper kiss and earns his first moan – barely there, a little self-conscious. Mycroft bites down on the sound the next second.</p>
<p>Greg doesn’t mind. He aims to have it and more soon enough.</p>
<p>“I get it,” he says, drawing back, his thumb smoothing over Mycroft’s bottom lip. “Nice and close, yeah?”</p>
<p>Something soft and vulnerable shivers through Mycroft’s expression. He nods, gazing up at Greg as though the simple act of doing so feels good. As though even going on half a year together, he still can’t quite believe he’s allowed.</p>
<p>
  <em>Christ. Always look at me like that. Please.</em>
</p>
<p>Gently, Greg cards his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, bringing their foreheads together.</p>
<p>“Budge up,” he whispers. “Let’s get comfortable.”</p>
<p>There’s a brief pause so Greg can gather extra pillows to pile by the headboard, probably more than necessary. It’s worth it for Mycroft’s smile at his efforts. He nestles back against them, watching Greg sink onto his hips with a shiver. </p>
<p>“Okay?” Greg asks, bending close for Mycroft’s lips again. His gloved hands curl at Mycroft’s waist, slipping down along his sides.</p>
<p>“Yes.” There’s a bit of weightlessness to Mycroft’s voice. He sighs into the kiss, gripping at the sheets as Greg slides a palm inwards over his stomach. “G-Greg…”</p>
<p>The gloves hardly seem the barrier Greg was expecting. Mycroft’s skin is just as warm, familiar, and endlessly satisfying to stroke as ever. He traces a light fingertip around Mycroft’s bellybutton; pets along a lower scattering of freckles, delighting at every gentle squirm he gets in response. It’s easy to lose the minutes just like this – slow, languid movements over Mycroft’s stomach, like skimming over the surface of water to stir up the ripples; enjoying an unhurried closeness that’s as natural to Greg now as his own heart beat.</p>
<p>Greg’s hands finally shift higher towards Mycroft’s chest, just as gentle and patient as when he started. He brushes more kisses against Mycroft’s neglected lips on the way, listening in adoration as Mycroft’s breathing deepens, easing into soft panting. </p>
<p>The first brush of leather over Mycroft’s nipples hitches the rhythm. </p>
<p>“Oh…! That’s-“</p>
<p>Greg circles back, a little firmer on the next lingering pass.</p>
<p>Mycroft arches under him with a whimper.</p>
<p>“Here for a bit?” Greg starts to gently knead at the tightening peaks, round and round with his thumbs. Mycroft’s mouth drops open. </p>
<p>“I – <em>Oh…</em> Y-yes, that’d be-“ He cottons on to Greg’s growing smile and huffs “Oh, shut up,” his breathless laugh so lovely that there’s nothing for it but to laugh as well.</p>
<p>“Gonna take my time with this,” says Greg. He sets his lips against the pale stretch of Mycroft’s throat, parting them to drag his tongue over the rising pulse. “Might be at it for hours…” </p>
<p>Mycroft swallows, shivering finely. Then, he tilts his head back into the pillows in silent encouragement.</p>
<p>“I’ve - no objections.” </p>
<p>Greg’s heart seems to quietly expand in size. With a low hum, he paints a soft, open-mouthed kiss over Mycroft’s neck. </p>
<p>“Best settle in then,” he husks, “I’m just getting started.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've never really written this kind of thing, but it was interesting to try and I do love how soft it feels. It's also nice to be posting something again.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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